Ozymandias
by Nocturnias
Summary: A 4th Doctor story, with 8 at the beginning. Sent by 8 to finish something he forgot to do years before, the 4th Doctor finds himself trapped in dark desire and unforgiven betrayal, struggling to put things right. COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

Ok, a warning first and foremost: this story is very different from my other Dr. Who fic! This story contains/will contain mild non-consensual sex, master/servant issues, and dark psychological drama. If you don't like this sort of thing, I strongly suggest you NOT read this one! If you don't scare easily, by all means read on. If you chose to read this, feedback is very appreciated. For those of you worried about my other story, fear not: I will have it finished within the next few days barring unforeseen events.  
  
Disclaimer: The BBC definitely owns Dr. Who, because if I did, the series would've been very different! This is fanfiction and not for profit, only the love of the show and what things can happen in an alternate universe.  
  
Ozymandias  
  
I met a traveler from an antique land  
  
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone  
  
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,  
  
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,  
  
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,  
  
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,  
  
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,  
  
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,  
  
And on the pedestal these words appear:  
  
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:  
  
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"  
  
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay  
  
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare  
  
The lone and level sands stretch far away.  
  
-Percy Bysshe Shelley  
  
1792-1822  
  
"How on Earth could I have lost my scarf?"  
  
He wasn't talking to anyone, of course. Unless you counted himself, or the TARDIS. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter that Leela was gone, or that he was off course again. What mattered was that his scarf was missing.  
  
He only took it off when he changed clothes. He hadn't done that yet today. Had he?  
  
For a split second the doctor doubted his sanity. Then he snorted and continued stomping through the TARDIS.  
  
After several hours he sat down at the control console, tired and puzzled. He glanced round with a sigh. "You haven't made off with it, have you old girl?" He asked the TARDIS.  
  
There was, of course, no audible reply, but the doctor had the distinct impression that his searching amused the TARDIS.   
  
"Don't get too cocky, now," he muttered. "I could always recalibrate your main sensor relays with the sonic screwdriver."  
  
As if in response to that, the doctor felt the TARDIS pull hard to the left. "Here now, I wasn't serious!" He exclaimed.  
  
But that didn't stop it from jolting, with a force that sent him stumbling to the floor. He pulled himself up and worked at the controls, only to find that it wasn't helping. Familiar sounds began to emanate: the TARDIS was landing.   
  
Landing. With no warning, no direction on his part.   
  
He blew a fierce breath and wagged a finger midair. "Typical of you."  
  
Well, he decided, might as well see what was afoot. He pulled his hat on, then changed his mind and removed it. He ran a hand along his neck, missing the feel of the rough wool beneath his fingertips. With one final disgusted look, he strode to the door, opened it, and stepped outside.  
  
He didn't know where he was.  
  
And he knew exactly where he was.  
  
He frowned at the paradoxical thoughts. Either he did or he didn't. The problem was, he wasn't sure which impression was the right one. He squinted against the fierce light of two suns and surveyed his surroundings.  
  
It was a wasteland. There was no better way to describe it. White sand bleached the ground for as far as his eyes could see. No flowers, no wildlife, no water... nothing else.   
  
"How did I get here?" He whispered aloud. "Why did I come here? Why is this place forsaken, and why do I feel that it didn't always used to be?"  
  
"Because it wasn't," a soft male voice said from behind him.  
  
The doctor whirled around, and came face to face with himself.  
  
Or rather, with one of his future selves. There was the other TARDIS, about ten feet behind his. A younger chap, dressed in a long green velvet coat and white silk shirt opened at the throat. His hair was light brown and it curled against his neck. He had wide blue eyes that watched his past self with utter calm. Not a bad looking fellow, the doctor decided. Then a flood of questions poured into his thoughts.  
  
"What are you doing here? Which one are you? How did you get me here, and why?"  
  
His other self sighed. "In no particular order, I'm the eighth, I created a Synergy wave, and I've been waiting for you."  
  
"The eighth?" Despite himself the doctor shivered a little. He was four, which meant... but wait. "Waiting for me? You know we aren't supposed to meet like this! What on earth are you doing?"  
  
"What on earth, indeed. And all the other planets as well," eight said, a slight curl to his lips. "As for us meeting like this... let's just say it's vital for the future of this galaxy."  
  
"Rubbish! Whatever for! And why here?"   
  
"Because here is where it started."  
  
"Where what started?"  
  
Eight shook his head sadly. "You honestly don't remember, do you?"  
  
"Remember what? Would you please make some sense?" Four asked, irritation creeping into his voice.  
  
Eight turned a paced a few steps, clearly agitated. Then he turned to face his past again.  
  
"When you first looked around, you thought you recognized this place. But at the same time, you didn't." Four nodded.  
  
"That's because it looks very different than it did the last time you were here, a stop you made after Leela and before Romana."  
  
Four frowned. Eight continued.  
  
"In the reality of this galaxy, time has passed differently. Nearly fifty years have come and gone since you were here."  
  
"Why don't I remember? And why do you remember?" Four asked.  
  
"You don't remember because of the accident. I remember because I was drawn back here."  
  
"Accident? What nonsense are you prattling on about?" Four demanded.  
  
"Something hit your head during some turbulence. Hard. Do you remember that?"  
  
"Yes, but I was fine."  
  
"Fine, yes. But you had just left here. And the injury seems to have suppressed your memory."  
  
"Memory of what?"  
  
"Of when you were here. Of what happened."  
  
"I haven't been here! I would remember this!" Four protested. "I'm a Time Lord! We don't forget things!"  
  
"No, we don't," Eight said quietly. "Not usually. But this once, you did. And what you locked away after your fall has brought about the ruin of a galaxy."  
  
"Have you lost our mind?" Four demanded. "I've never done any such thing!"  
  
"O yes, you have."  
  
"How?" Four asked.  
  
"There is a woman here. You named her Parthenope." He watched his past self carefully, looking for any sign of recognition, but only found bewilderment.   
  
"I named her, you say? But why..."  
  
"Please, let me finish," Eight said. Four subsided. "She was the only inhabitant of the planet. She had no name, no memory of anything. You couldn't figure out why you'd landed here, so you decided she'd somehow brought the TARDIS here. You jokingly called her Parthenope, and she liked the name. So she kept it."  
  
"And... this has what to do with what's going on?"  
  
"If you'll let me explain, I shall tell you," Eight said.  
  
Four exhaled loudly, but made no further comment.  
  
Eight looked down, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. "Parthenope was, is, well... in love with you."  
  
"In love? With me?" Four's eyes popped wide open.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Now, look here, young fellow," Four said gravely. "That simply isn't possible."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because..." Four groped for a logical reason, and, that failing him, spluttered: "I'm the Doctor!"  
  
Despite his mood, Eight was amused by the comment. "Well, no one can doubt that, certainly! But regardless, that's what happened. She is completely in love with you."  
  
"All right, all right, let's just suppose that she is," Four said.  
  
"How generous of you to take my word for it," Eight replied.  
  
"I fail to see what some woman, who I can't even remember, being in love with me has to do with destroying a galaxy."  
  
Eight sobered. "She's not just "some woman." She's a Psion."  
  
"A Psion..." Four whispered. "That's impossible! The Psions were destroyed millennia ago!"  
  
"That's what we thought. But she survived. Because another Psion managed to get her away in time. But he died. And after that, someone came here."  
  
"Someone?"  
  
"The Master," Eight sighed.  
  
"Blast!" Four shook his head. Was there no place safe from his infernal clutches? Evidently not. "And he left her be? That seems awfully charitable of him, and that isn't one of the Master's strong suits."  
  
"She was in shock. Not fully recovered from the death of her friend. He planned to return later, when she was stronger, in control of herself and her powers."  
  
"And I'll bet that, in her condition, he was able to influence her mind the first time he came, suppress her memories so that when he returned, she'd think he was her savior. It all makes sense now... assuming that she wouldn't have remembered once she'd recovered. But didn't he ever come back?"  
  
"O, he did. But you see, she did recall what had happened. The Master greatly underestimated her. Not only that, you were here, and you didn't take kindly to his ideas. You were able to send him on his merry way, but before that he'd got into the TARDIS and messed things up pretty good."  
  
"The repairs, then later the accident," Four mused.  
  
Eight nodded and continued. "You were here for a good bit, getting the TARDIS working again. While you did that, you spent time with Parthenope. She never remembered anything more about herself while you were here. She had been alone for a time before the Master's visit: it's a wonder even someone as powerful as a Psion didn't go mad."  
  
Four listened.   
  
"After the TARDIS was fixed, you asked her if there was anywhere you could take her, if she wanted to go with you. She said that she had to stay there. She didn't know why, but she felt it. So you gave her your usual goodbye spiel and told her that you'd be back to visit."  
  
"And I never did," Four surmised.  
  
"No. You never did. Until I came." His gaze was significant, but the fourth doctor didn't understand. He said as much.  
  
"Do you remember anything?" Eight asked, his gaze intense as he watched his younger self.  
  
"No. But I believe you, as much as I don't like to. How can I not?" He added with a helpless shrug. "You're me."  
  
"At least we've gotten that much established."  
  
"So...why did you bring me back here? To have a friendly visit with her, smooth things out?" Curls flew about his face as he shook his head. "That doesn't seem quite right."  
  
"No. It isn't just a matter of a friendly visit. Her loneliness has now driven her to the brink of insanity. Since she's been here, since you turned the Master away, no one else has come. Add into that the fact that she's been waiting for you for fifty years, you being the only person she remembers seeing, a person she fell in love with, and..." Here Eight stopped and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them they were darker.   
  
"And?" Four prompted quietly.  
  
"Bit by bit she has been destroying. Planets, stars, galaxies. This entire galaxy has become barren. She isn't doing it deliberately. It's..." He struggled to explain a concept that he understood yet did not understand. "It's more like it's the outward manifestation of her spirit. She's dying inside, and everything else is dying outside."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"By my estimation, this is the only planet left with any life on it," Eight said. "And it doesn't have much."  
  
"So why didn't you talk to her and cheer her up? Get her out of here for goodness sake! Why won't she leave?!"  
  
"She's still waiting for you," Eight said simply.  
  
"But you are me," Four argued.  
  
"Not to her, I'm not. And in a way, I'm really not you." He held up a hand to forestall Four's protests. "We're both the Doctor. But we're not the same, not really. And you know that as well as I."  
  
"Yes, you're quite right," Four responded. He sighed. "So. What can I do?"  
  
"Go to her. If I'm right, being with you will reverse what's happened, what will happen. Make her feel... alive and happy again."  
  
"By doing what?"  
  
"I don't know!" Eight exclaimed. "All I know is that is the only solution I can think of. If you have a better one I'll gladly listen."  
  
"O, how dramatic you are," Four said. He started across the sand. "I'll clear this up."  
  
"Doctor..."  
  
Four stopped, something in Eight's tone, his calling him by their name, making him shiver inside.  
  
Eight pointed towards the west. "She's that way. You'll know when you see trees and a pond. And remember: it took time for this to happen. It might take time and work to undo it."  
  
"Time isn't really an issue for us, now is it?" Four murmured. He looked back and grinned before resuming his stride.  
  
"No," Eight answered softly, watching him retreat, scarf trailing in the sand.  
  
Four drudged on, pausing for a moment to absently wind his scarf more closely around his neck. He halted in mid-stride and stared at the cheerfully striped fabric. "My scarf! How did I get it back?"  
  
/You never lost it. /  
  
Four jumped at the sound of Eight's voice speaking in his mind. /How do you know? And what are you still doing here? I told you I'll take care of it./  
  
/You might need my help. And I know because, well... I'm afraid I'm the one who made you think you'd lost it. /  
  
/You? Why? /  
  
/I needed to keep you distracted while I cross-linked with your TARDIS. I had to create a Synergy Wave./  
  
/To bring me here?/  
  
/Yes. Not an easy job, I might add. Lucky for me you weren't too far away at the time./  
  
/That was not a nice thing to do to yourself./  
  
/Probably not. But necessity isn't always nice./  
  
Four scowled, letting the image, the emotion of it fill his thoughts before he plodded on. /And stay out of my head./  
  
He saw it not long afterward, a circle of lush dark green leaves and the silver-blue glint of water. "An oasis in the desert," he remarked aloud softly.  
  
An arid wind stirred his hair, carrying with it a faint scent of sweet musk. It was something he'd smelled before, somewhere: was it here? He still couldn't remember. It beckoned to him, tantalized his nostrils, filling him with a rush of exhilaration. He continued on until he stood on the edge of the refuge. He was suddenly gripped with an irrational desire to flee, to go back to the TARDIS and be gone. /Whatever is the matter with me?/He thought.  
  
/Go on. You're just skittish./  
  
/I thought I told you-/Four began.  
  
/Yes, yes,/Eight interrupted wearily. /As soon as I know you can handle this I'll be off./  
  
/Why would you even doubt it? I am the Doctor./  
  
/As am I. But... some things even we can't be prepared for./  
  
/Just a blasted minute!/Four retorted.  
  
He felt Eight withdraw, retreating to some safe space just outside his immediate awareness. /And stay there,/ he muttered.   
  
Well. No sense in delaying further, he realized. He absently ran a hand through his hair, then called out in what he hoped was his most charming manner: "I say, anyone home?"  
  
Silence, save for the whispering wind. Four frowned. Eight spoke to him again. /She's on the other side./  
  
/Why won't she answer me?/  
  
/She can't. Or perhaps she can, but not yet. She's catatonic./  
  
/Then how did you.../  
  
/When I found her, and couldn't get her to speak, I finally touched her mind./  
  
/And she still wouldn't respond?/  
  
/I'm not you, remember? She doesn't know anything. She has no idea that while she's been sitting there she's destroyed countless worlds./  
  
A shadow fell across Four's mind, the shadow of Eight's mental contact with her. It had been so brief, a matter of seconds, but long enough to make him afraid. Enough to make him bend and shape the rules of time and space to bring his younger self here to solve the problem.   
  
/So, I'm the cavalry, eh? You think my mere presence will solve everything?/ Four asked, not quite joking.  
  
/I think so. I hope so./  
  
/What if you're wrong, and I'm not what she needs at all? I don't know if even I'm THAT extraordinary./  
  
/Of course you are. You're the Doctor, remember?/  
  
/Yes, but-/  
  
/Shove on, now./  
  
Four made a sound that could have been irritation, could have been agreement. He entered the dense tangle of trees, his footsteps slowing a bit as he gazed around him in amazement. The tree limbs were heavy with fruits, nuts, and flowers, with more flowers in thick violet and rose clusters springing from numerous bushes. A bed of woven leaves rested in the center, twined with more flowers in every imaginable hue. Birds twittered and sang to one another. The sweet musky odor again, stirring his senses anew...  
  
In a sudden flash of insight, he thought: /She kept this one place alive and whole, waiting for me./   
  
It took a few minutes to walk through, the other side blinding in its barren contrast to the small paradise he was exiting. He saw her, sitting cross-legged just outside the edge. Her back was to him, her head turned slightly, neck craning upward, giving her a swanlike appearance. Long dark hair fell straight down her back, splashed with glints of red. She wore a simple purple gauze dress. /That's just how she looked when I left-/  
  
He remembered. Everything.  
  
"Parthenope!" He gasped.  
  
No response, but did he imagine just the tiniest movement of her head? He quickly walked to her side, kneeling next to her on the sand, searching her face for some sign of recognition. Her skin was pale as wax, the large dark green of her eyes showing no change, rich pink lips parted slightly but making no sound. She didn't even look like she was breathing, so still was her form. He repeated her name, then reached and took one of her hands in his. "It's me," he said urgently. "It's me, the Doctor! I've come back!"  
  
A twitch of the arm, a few rapid blinks. She was struggling, he sensed, to reconnect with a world that had held no meaning for her for years. "I'm here, I came to see you," he whispered. His hand tightened on hers. "Parthenope, come on, come back to me, talk to me..."  
  
The mouth opened a bit, lower lip quivering as she fought to find her voice. It was barely above a murmur, gravely and low, but she managed to say: "Doctor..."  
  
"Yes!" He exclaimed. "I'm here! Look at me!"  
  
Now she moved, a marionette on a string, jerky, and hesitant, but she turned her head. When she was face to face with him, her eyes widened and changed from green to the deepest violet he'd ever seen. Her tongue snaked out to lick her lips, her body trembling, as she drew a deep breath and spoke again, her voice louder, stronger: "Doctor!"  
  
She moved, so quickly he was completely unprepared, and pushed him onto his back, leaning over him, her face radiating rapture, her mouth a wide smile. He smiled weakly in return.   
  
"You're here," she breathed. "You came back."  
  
"Yes, I'm here. I-"  
  
He got no further before she laughed in hysterical delight and threw herself upon him, hugging him tight.  
  
He returned her embrace, somewhat awkwardly, patting her shoulders reassuringly. "There, there, now. Why, you'd think I'd been gone for..." his voice trailed off as he remembered just how long he had been gone.  
  
"Forever," she said. She released him and leaned over him, her face inches away from his. "I've waited so long for you," she whispered  
  
He had no chance to respond. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.  
  
For a few seconds he lay stunned. Then he became alarmed. /This is not good./  
  
He moved to push her away. /What do you think you're doing!/ Eight exclaimed.  
  
/What in blazes do you think? She's kissing me! I have to stop her!/  
  
/Are you an idiot?/ Eight replied. /You can't do that!/  
  
/What?! What do you mean, I can't do that! Are you an idiot?!/ He raised his hands.  
  
/Listen to me,/ Eight said urgently. /I know you aren't used to this-/  
  
/What an understatement!/ Four shouted mentally.  
  
/But think for just a minute. You've just awakened a Psion from catatonia. A Psion who has wiped out ninety-nine percent of a galaxy while her mind was locked away pining for you. She's ecstatic, and extremely unstable. If you reject her right now, what do you think is going to happen?/  
  
/I-/  
  
/Think about that! For years, all she has done is sit and breathe, she hasn't eaten, slept, moved. She hasn't aged, hasn't suffered at all for it. Don't you understand how powerful her mind is, that she could sustain herself even in that state? And you've just waltzed up and unlocked the box that she's been in!/  
  
/Yes, yes! I understand that!/ Four answered. /But that doesn't help my current situation!/  
  
/There isn't any help for it at the moment, dear boy./  
  
/What are you saying?/  
  
/Look, this isn't your fault. You didn't remember. But the fact is that right now you're the only link between her and reality./ Eight paused, then said matter-of-factly: /I'd advise you to make the best of it./  
  
/Make the best of it? I can't do this!/  
  
/Rubbish. You mean you don't want to./  
  
/Of course I don't want to! I'm the Doctor! A Time Lord! That aside, even if I could put that aside, I hardly know her! And... and.../  
  
/You're healing her, healing this galaxy. Think of it that way. Even now life is beginning again here. Slowly. But it can be reversed, just as I thought./  
  
/So I'm supposed to, to just let this happen? There must be another way!/  
  
/Then what is it!/ Eight snapped.  
  
/I don't know! But this can't be the solution!/  
  
/If you push her away now, she could kill you! Or herself! You might send her over the brink! Is that what you want?/  
  
/No!/  
  
/I can help you,/ Eight said, his tone softening, coaxing.  
  
/Help me, what, with this? Since when did we have a vast store of firsthand knowledge about sex?/  
  
Eight laughed. He couldn't help it. /Since I became the Doctor. Since human elements were introduced into my system. And it isn't vast. But it's enough./  
  
Four sighed. It was true. If he rejected her now, there was no telling what would happen. When he spoke again he sounded resigned. /What can I do? What can you do?/  
  
/Just try to relax. Let my mind work with yours./  
  
/Look here, I don't think I can manage anything if you're giving a soliloquy the entire time,/ Four said.  
  
/No soliloquy, no monologue. I won't speak at all. I'm just going to be a conduit. All you have to do is follow my feelings.  
  
/And then what?/  
  
/With luck, you'll start to experience your own. If so, I'll gladly retreat and be gone./  
  
/Let's get on with it, then./  
  
/That's not the right attitude to have,/ Eight admonished.  
  
/Why not? I'm being... violated./  
  
/By choice./  
  
/Because there is no other!/  
  
/There is. But you're choosing to do the right thing, and that right thing isn't going to be attained by normal means in this case. For goodness sake, you've endured worse, done worse, to save lives!/  
  
/I hate it when you're right,/ Four replied.  
  
/I'm not always right. Now, be quiet and do something besides lie there. She's going to start to wonder soon./  
  
/Do what?/  
  
/Put your arms around her./  
  
/And?/  
  
/Relax. Do what you feel me guiding you to do./  
  
/And let nature take its course?/ Four couldn't resist the comment.  
  
/Yes./  
  
/I hope no one else ever finds out about this,/ Four said. He lowered his hands, hesitantly wrapped them around Parthenope's waist. No brains needed there: he'd seen countless humans and humanoids do it. He let his lips part beneath hers so she could deepen the kiss. Again, no problem. He'd seen many a kiss in his day. He knew how this was supposed to go. He just had no experience in this incarnation. /That's about to change,/ he thought dryly.  
  
He was jolted by the sudden sound of her moaning. /I say, am I really causing her to feel this way?/ He was startled to think so. It was frightening... and intriguing.  
  
He felt a slight increase in his heartbeats, and realized that Eight was focusing himself completely on the physical sensations Four's body was experiencing: her warm soft body on top of his, the silken pressure of her mouth. For the first time, he realized that this couldn't be easy for his other self, either, even if he did have some experience. He didn't know Parthenope, save for what he'd learned from touching her mind, and something told Four that he wasn't casual in matters of the flesh, or the heart. Yet here he was, the tenuous bridge between the coolness of one and the inferno of the other, trying to unite them in a mutual heat.   
  
Parthenope's tongue teased the bottom corners of his mouth. He jerked, breath coming out in a sharp involuntary gasp. This was utterly alien to him. He couldn't! It wasn't possible! The sudden surge of fear made him gasp again, and he tried to pull away. But her arms were iron bands that had slipped around him, sealing his body against hers, and to his distress the Doctor found her strength was too much for him to free himself. He was pinned helplessly to her, held by the release of all her pent up hunger and sadness.   
  
/Stop it!/ Eight snapped. /You're only making it harder on both of us./  
  
/I can't.../ Four whispered.  
  
/Yes you can. If you turned away from every problem, every obstacle you've faced before, where do you think you'd be now?/  
  
/This is different. I can't, I don't.../  
  
/Let me show you something./  
  
Four had an image of his other self, on Earth, with a tall red haired woman. Grace, his mind whispered. He saw himself grabbing this woman and kissing her. He could feel her, taste her, dozens of sensations passing through him, new, tantalizing, like nothing he'd ever experienced, one mystery after another unraveling before his eager eyes, a denouement that was really one beginning after another...  
  
Four struggled with the unfamiliar emotions, the sensory input that was almost too much even for him to withstand. But somehow he held on, let it flow from his older self into him, experienced the delight and wonder as if they were his own. There were other memories; his other self apparently visited this Grace woman on something of a regular basis. As regular as could be said for a Time Lord. There had been more than a kiss or two in some of these visits: much more. It was then that he understood what Eight wanted to do.  
  
/Memory-based emotional transference,/ Four said.  
  
/Yes. A bit dangerous, but it's the best idea I've got./  
  
/All right,/he whispered. /I won't resist it./  
  
/Are you certain?/ Eight asked.  
  
/No. But I'll try my best./  
  
/Then we'll start from there./  
  
Eight hesitated, then gathered the emotions, wound them into a tight ball, and hurled them deep into Four's psyche.  
  
The Doctor reeled, the sudden powerful mental impact making him weak, his body sagging against Parthenope's. She cradled him to her, lifted him effortlessly and walked into the paradise she had created so long ago to await his return. The doctor lay limp in her arms, head rolling back, dimly registering when she eased him down onto the woven bed. She stretched out beside him and pulled him to her, finding his lips with hers again. He sighed. The foreign sensation of physical desire wound itself through his mind, twined into his synapses, licked liquid fire along his veins. He struggled to accept it. He heard himself sigh again, the sound becoming a moan as the kiss intensified.  
  
/Yes,/ Eight whispered. /It worked. Now let yourself go./  
  
Four didn't respond. The need had rapidly shifted from a gentle rain into a maelstrom. It was pulling him-- no, hurtling him would be a better word-into the eye. Instead of panicking and trying to pull free, though, he was allowing it to carry him in. It was incredible, this feeling. There was nothing he could compare it to. Comparing night with day, sun with moon would be child's play against this. He was freezing and burning at the same time, trembling yet utterly still. Powerful beyond measure, but completely helpless. Little wonder Gallifreyans eschewed sex. How could one think with so much blood pounding into the brain!  
  
She rose and removed her dress, and with the surge of sexual energy his future self had imbued in him the Doctor suddenly discovered that thinking wasn't what he wanted to do at all...  
  
He didn't know how much time had passed, when he'd fallen asleep, or why. It wasn't as thought he needed it... was it? It was possible that Time Lords had the same physical reactions to sex as humans. His own experience with the act was so limited, and from so long ago, he wasn't certain. But it didn't matter really. He was awake now, and now that he'd started Parthenope down the path of healing he could take his leave.  
  
He rose and dressed, wondering where she was, where his other self was. When he stepped outside the circle of the forest he found part of the answer to his ponderings. Parthenope stood watching the setting suns, her back to him. He noticed that she was now wearing a dress in a shade of dark green and wondered where the garment had come from. Then he snorted. Of course: his future self. Doubtless he'd left her with a new wardrobe to get her started. He wondered where she'd like to go. Having been here for so long, she'd definitely need some guidance on another planet to help her adjust. Well, he could take some time for that.   
  
He opened his mouth to greet her, but before he could speak she said: "Hello, Doctor."  
  
He blinked in surprise. "How did you know I was behind you?"  
  
"I feel you," she said simply.  
  
"Ah." He wasn't quite sure what to make of that. He settled for clearing his throat. "Parthenope, have you by chance--"  
  
"Seen your other self? Yes." Her voice was as light and soft as the breeze blowing through the air. "He has departed now."  
  
"Ah." He sighed, then frowned. He did so hate to sound like a broken record.  
  
"He explained to me who he was, and why he was here," she continued. She glanced back at him. "Unnecessary, however. I knew all that when he first touched my mind with his."  
  
"You knew? You felt him and knew it was me and you still didn't come round?" The Doctor asked.  
  
Now she turned to face him, and he felt a vague sense of unease for no reason he could explain.   
  
"He was not you. Only you are you," she said, her tone that of a teacher explaining something to a student.  
  
"Well, I am rather unique, aren't I?" He grinned. He stuck a hand into his coat pocket. "Look, Parthenope, there are some things we need to sort out before we leave..."  
  
She said nothing, only watched him.  
  
The Doctor frowned. He dug deeper, then switched hands, then pockets. None of these actions helped. The TARDIS key was missing. Hard to tell where it had fallen out at, but most likely in the little sanctuary when he'd stripped and been stripped of his clothes. Shouldn't take long to find.   
  
"Parthenope, I seem to have misplaced something, perhaps you'd be so good as to help me look for it. It's-"  
  
"The key to your vessel," she finished.  
  
He felt perplexed, but shrugged it off. Perhaps his... activities with her had created a temporary linking of their minds to some degree. Nothing they couldn't dissolve. "Yes," he answered. But then curiosity got the best of him. "How did you know I was going to ask about that?"  
  
She looked slightly surprised. "It would only be natural for you to ask about something that was missing."  
  
The feeling of unease returned threefold. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "How did you know it was missing?"  
  
Her gaze was calm. "Because I took it."  
  
"We-ell, yes, that would explain it, now wouldn't it?" He smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "Perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell me why you did that."  
  
She looked perplexed, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Because if I hadn't, you might have tried to leave."  
  
The smile widened, but it was not pleasant. It looked cracked and brittle on his face. "I see. And you don't intend to allow me to leave, I take it?"  
  
She didn't reply.  
  
He shook his head, partly in sadness, partly in understanding. "I was off the mark when I named you," he murmured. "I should've called you Calypso."  
  
She titled her head, curious. "Who is Calypso?"  
  
"It's from a very old story entitled The Odyssey from a planet called Earth, written by the Greek poet Homer. Odysseus was a man trying to return home when he was shipwrecked on an island where a nymph named Calypso lived."  
  
He had her attention, which was what he'd hoped. He continued. "Calypso had been by herself on her paradise of an island for many years. She was very lonely before Odysseus came. She wanted him to stay with her, but he wanted to go home and he refused. So she kept him prisoner there, made him stay with her to keep her company." His eyes narrowed again. "Is that what you're doing?"  
  
She turned away from him.  
  
In three strides he was in front of her, gripping her by the shoulders, staring hard into her eyes. "Are you going to keep me here?"  
  
She stepped away from him, her eyes smoky, unreadable. "So what happened to him, and to Calypso?" She asked.  
  
He closed the gap between them, but made no attempt to touch her. "She kept him there for seven years before the Gods decided it was time for him to be freed. They sent a messenger to Calypso and ordered her to let him go. The next day he set sail."  
  
She smiled. "I do not think the Gods from a made-up story will have you set free, Doctor."  
  
"Probably not," he said grimly. He looked into her eyes again, and his voice softened, became coaxing. "But surely you know you can't keep me here."  
  
"I know nothing of the sort," she replied. "Why can I not?"  
  
"Because I don't want to stay!" He snapped, wincing at the harshness of his voice, the momentary lapse of his control.  
  
"What does what you want have to do with my ability to stop you from leaving?" She asked, amused.  
  
"Apparently, nothing," he retorted. He drew a breath, forced himself to regain his composure. "Parthenope, why will you not let me leave?"  
  
She looked at the sand. "The last time you left, you said you'd come back." She returned her eyes to his, and for the first time he saw the pain, the hurt, the imagined betrayal. "You never did."  
  
"But that wasn't my fault!" He protested. "You know that! If you've seen my thoughts you know that!"  
  
"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice now cold, distant. "I won't take that chance again."  
  
"What you are doing is kidnapping! Illegal, immoral, and insane!"  
  
She made no reply.  
  
"You are going to give me my key, I am going to leave, and I will send someone here to help you," he said firmly.  
  
"No," she answered, equally firmly. "You will not leave, and we shall stay here together."  
  
"Parthenope, don't make me do something I'll regret," he said sternly.  
  
"Such as?" She laughed. "We both know you won't hurt me. That would go against everything you stand for."  
  
He ignored the comment. "Tell me where you hid the key," he said.  
  
"No."  
  
"Parthenope!" He shouted. "I have had quite enough of this!"  
  
"And so have I!" She retorted. "You are staying here, Doctor, and that is final!"  
  
"No it bloody well isn't!" He made to grasp her shoulders again, then realized what he was about to do and jerked his hands to his sides. He was breathing rapidly. That blasted emotion transfer, he realized. It had made him receptive to more than just passion. It would wear off soon, but until it did he had to keep himself in check. She was obviously unstable and he didn't want to push too hard too fast. He decided to take a different approach.  
  
"All right, have it your way," he huffed.   
  
She watched him warily.  
  
"You're right: I can't hurt you or even threaten to. It's not who I am. But you'll get no company out of me. You might be able to keep me here, but that's the extent of it. And eventually I will find where you've hidden the key." He turned and started walking.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I don't know, and even if I did I wouldn't tell you," he said haughtily.  
  
"Doctor..."  
  
He stopped and turned, curious as to the sudden change in her voice.  
  
"It gets very tiresome being alone, you know." She said softly. "Or actually, I don't think you do know. I don't think you have much of an idea of what that's like. But you will."  
  
"I never met the man as companionable as solitude," he retorted.  
  
"Is that your Homer again?"  
  
"No, that's Ralph Waldo Emerson. Same planet, though."  
  
"It does not matter. You are going to come back, Doctor. You'll grow weary of it. Besides," she added, "The only food and water here is where I am."  
  
"I'm sure I'll manage somehow," he answered, though in truth he'd forgotten that. Food he could do without for a while, but not water.  
  
"You may come get both whenever you like."  
  
"Not going to charge me for them, eh? How generous of you."  
  
She laughed. "I am going to leave you be, Doctor. You shall come to me of your own free will."  
  
"As long as I am a prisoner on this planet I will never come to you of my own free will," he said, anger and conviction hardening his voice.  
  
His words didn't seem to bother her. "I am patient."  
  
"And what happens if your patience runs out?" He asked.  
  
She smiled. "Then I do as the Calypso of the story did and compel you to come to me."  
  
He stared at her, a sudden tremor of fear shaking him.  
  
"You neglected to tell me that part of the story," she said smoothly. "Fortunate that I saw it in your thoughts."  
  
"Not for me it wasn't," he hissed, turning back around and walking away. As he did he called out to her sharply: "And stay out of my head!"  
  
******  
  
"You know, the Doctor remarked conversationally, "I do believe I might be the first Time Lord in Gallifrey's history to die and regenerate of boredom."  
  
He wasn't certain what he was addressing this comment to: the air, the suns, or the ground. None of them deigned to give him a response, so it didn't really matter. What mattered was that he'd been out here for eight days engaging in this battle of wills with Parthenope.   
  
He was winning. Maybe. Or maybe not.  
  
He'd spent this time walking about, examining his surroundings even thought he knew it would all be the same. He'd sang a good bit, talked to himself aloud a great deal more. There was literally nothing for him to do. Well, next to nothing, and what things he could do he'd already done several times.  
  
The first time he'd gone back to where she was to get water he'd been wary. Then he'd told himself that was foolishness on his part: if she wanted to do something to him, how could he stop her? He wasn't sure if it would be possible. Since her mind had reawakened she'd come back to reality-and using her powers-with frightening speed. He began to see why the Psions had been subjected to genocide. Mentally they were extremely formidable, even more so than Time Lords. He might have the ability to travel from place to place, but he did not have the ability to transform his surroundings once there.   
  
Parthenope had already begun to make changes. Not large ones, not harmful ones, either. She hadn't even made herself known to him when he'd gone to get water. He'd stayed only long enough to drink some and then bolted. But when he awoke later that day from a nap there was a water skin beside him, large enough to hold a day's supply at once. He'd scowled, but grudgingly used it. The water it held stayed cold and sweet all day, despite the heat.   
  
Even the heat was not so bad now: it was much cooler than when he'd first arrived. He'd pondered this as well: did she know his normal body temperature was lower than hers? Probably, he'd decided. There was no rain, no humidity, and every night the pale green moons cast a gentle light upon him. There were cool breezes every half hour, like clockwork. On the second night he'd slept for a bit, out of boredom more than actually needing rest, curling up on his coat and pillowing his head on his scarf. He'd half expected to awaken in a feather bed with plump down pillows, or maybe even in her lair. But no. There was, however, a bathroom about fifteen feet away from him. A perfectly normal looking bathroom, complete with shower, tub, toilet and sink, all done tastefully in soft white ceramic and steel. A large wicker basket stood in one corner, presumably a laundry basket.   
  
"Is this a hint that I smell?" He shouted into the air. There was no response.  
  
He made a few harrumphing noises, but went inside and took a long soak. When he was finished and took his clothes back out of the basket they were clean and had a faint pleasant scent to them. The bathroom dissolved back into the nothingness it had been created from, but he suspected that he could wish it back whenever he wanted. He was still furious with her for holding him captive, but at least she was seeing to his basic needs.  
  
The third day his hunger had finally prompted him to seek food as well, and he trudged back to the oasis. The bathroom water was only good for him to clean himself: when he tried to pour water into his water skin from the tub or sink the room immediately vanished. It seemed that, although she left him be when he came for water, she liked his daily sojourn. Since he had no choice, he kept going.  
  
Today he found himself staring at some new trees. He'd expected more of the citrus fruits, but these were gone. They had been replaced with what appeared to be a sandwich tree, a drink tree, and a jelly baby tree.  
  
He approached the sandwich tree. The sandwiches hung neatly from branches, all identical. There were three of them. He sighed. He had to eat. He imagined she knew he wouldn't starve himself. He knew without being told that she would intervene if he attempted any sort of harm on his person. And at any rate, that wasn't his way.   
  
He pulled a sandwich off with ease and examined it. It was pastrami on rye with mustard, lettuce and tomato, just the way he liked it. The drink tree had a glass of iced tea waiting for him. A picnic cloth appeared on the ground, set with plate and linen napkin. He deliberately ignored it and stood by the trees munching on the sandwich, which to his dismay was exceedingly good. He drank some tea, which was also good, and looked around.  
  
"Am I supposed to be grateful that you've been mucking about in my mind?" He called out. "Poking in my mental closets, prying into my storage boxes? Well I'm not, not one bit. You've no right to do that, none at all. I'd tell you to stop but I know it would do me no good, would it? You've no care about what you're doing. None at all."  
  
He paused, waiting to see if she made any sort of response. But nothing happened. The breeze didn't even change. He finished eating and dropped the cup to the picnic cloth, then (somewhat regretfully) passed by the jelly baby tree and started back to where he spent his time. When he'd taken about a dozen steps he stopped.  
  
"Just tell me one thing. What are you going to do when my other self comes back? Frankly, I don't even understand how you got him to leave, with him remembering all this. But let me assure you, when the time comes for him to return-"  
  
"There will be no such time, because there is no such time."  
  
He whirled about, staring at her. She was a few feet away; looking at him with a sad, gentle expression.  
  
"What do you mean, there is no such time?" He asked.  
  
"Your future self made what is called a Synergy wave to bring you here."  
  
"I know that," he snapped peevishly. "So?"  
  
"The creation of such a wave is accomplished by the cross-connection of time streams. As you slept, I altered the patterns of the wave."  
  
The blood drained from the Doctor's face. "You did what?" He whispered.  
  
She nodded. "I changed the weave of the fabric your future self had spun. Altered it back in time. He will not be returning, because now he no longer exists in this time stream."  
  
"That's murder!" The Doctor roared.  
  
"No. He is very much alive, and in his own time stream. It is his memories that are no longer the same. He remembers this event as you both leaving and everything being put to rights, as he perceived it. He has no reason to return... because to him, you no longer exist. You were you and he is him."  
  
He stared in horrified comprehension. "He doesn't know what you did. He thinks everything went as he planned. He..."  
  
"Yes."  
  
His shoulders slumped.  
  
"So you see, there will be no Doctors, Gods, or anyone else coming to rescue you," she said quietly. "You belong to me now."  
  
"I will never belong to you!" He shouted, and took off.  
  
******  
  
Five days had passed since then. He'd neither eaten nor slept. He still got water and he still bathed, but that was the extent of it. And he was bored. Incredibly bored. And confused.  
  
He'd expected her to come running to him. But she had not. He now wondered if she ever would. He had assumed because of her feelings for him that she would have been pleading with or threatening him by now. But nothing. He hated nothing. But he'd just have to deal with it.  
  
******  
  
Another six days.  
  
By now the Doctor was reaching a breaking point. He knew that if she came to him, it would be because she was at her breaking point as well. And he was far more concerned about hers than he was his. The worst part was, he had no idea of exactly what she was capable of. She could obviously manipulate minds, even one as strong as a Time Lord's. She could alter the fabric of time itself, at least where this galaxy was concerned. She could create simple matter, animate, but nothing complex. At least he didn't think so. And she could destroy. Remembering the images of those desolate wasted worlds he'd seen in his other self's mind made him shiver. What if she did that again?  
  
No, he decided. She wasn't cruel, or harmful. Well, other than his imprisonment. But she was taking care of him, respecting his wishes as much as possible. She was lonely, possibly mad, definitely terrified of being without him. That made her dangerous, and vulnerable, but not necessarily evil. He did have sympathy for what she'd endured. She could still be helped, he was certain of that. But neither one of them would be helped by continuing this game.  
  
"Right," he muttered. What was it someone had said to him once? The best way to untie the Gordian Knot was to cut it in half?   
  
He rose, smiled, and started walking. "Let's just put that to the test."  
  
When he reached the outskirts of her circle he paused. He was about to play a very dangerous game. But he had to do it; he had to know how far she was willing to go at this point. So he braced himself and walked in.  
  
"Ah! There you are," he said cheerfully as he entered. And stopped.  
  
Where there had been little more than a pallet of woven branches before now stood a king size four-poster wooden bed. Complete with a dark red quilt and sheets and pillowcases to match.  
  
"Very nice," he murmured. Then he realized something. "That didn't come from my mind, I've never seen that before!"  
  
"It was my bed at my former home, before the war."  
  
He looked at her as she crossed into his line of vision. Again a dress of soft gauzy material, only today it was black.   
  
He nodded. "Lovely."  
  
"Why are you here?" She asked.  
  
"Yes, quite a magnificent bed indeed," he said, his tone light. He moved to stand beside it. Locking eyes with her, he slowly tugged at his scarf until it fell in a heap on the ground. With feigned casualness he began to unbutton his vest.  
  
"What are you doing?"   
  
"What does it look like?"  
  
"It looks like you are removing your clothes."  
  
He grinned. "You ARE perceptive!" He finished unbuttoning the vest and let it fall beside the scarf.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You win," he said simply.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You were right. I can't fight you forever; we both know that. I'm giving in to you. I surrender. If I had a white flag I'd wave it." As he spoke he began to unfasten his shirt. "Why does everything I wear have so many blasted buttons?" He muttered.  
  
"Doctor, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Oh, come now!" He scoffed as he continued unbuttoning. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about! Mind you, I can't promise anything as good as the first time unless you want to give my mental libido a boost, but I think I can still manage." He finished his task and dropped the shirt, then glanced up to study her reaction. She appeared to be shocked.   
  
He sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled. "Do be gentle with me, I'm not used to this in this body."  
  
"Doctor..." She said, her tone uneasy.  
  
He clapped a hand to his forehead. "Of course! How silly of me! You wanted to undress me yourself, didn't you? Nice and slow so you could enjoy having me under your control. Sorry about that. I do still have the bottom half, though." He gave her his best mischievous grin.  
  
"Doctor, I don't think..."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about me making a fuss. I already told you I know you've got me, didn't I? I won't resist you. If you like, I'll even try to enjoy it."  
  
"Doctor!" She cried.  
  
"Of course, I'm sure you could do something about that, too, couldn't you?" He continued relentlessly. "Put irresistible desire in my mind, make me think that I want it, make it impossible for me to withstand you..."  
  
"Stop it!" She screamed, turning away from him.  
  
"Why?" He asked her, his voice harsh. He rose and moved to stand before her. "Isn't this what you want? To make me submit to you? To give myself over?"  
  
She didn't answer.  
  
"And you could do that, couldn't you?" He asked softly. "You could tamper with my mind, make me want you so bad I couldn't fight it even if I hated doing it. You've taken things from me, we both know it would be easy for you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "So why haven't you done it?"  
  
She shook her head, a tear slipping down one cheek. "No. Not like this."  
  
"What do you mean, not like this?" He asked.  
  
"I don't want you like this!" She cried. "I want you to come to me willingly."  
  
"I have! I'm here, aren't I?"  
  
"But you aren't really willing," she said. "You're only doing this because you think you have to yield to what you think is the inevitable."  
  
"Well isn't it?" He asked, voice still harsh though somewhat quieter. "If I don't come to you on my own how long do you think it would be before you forced me? Not too much longer, I'd say. And given the choice of you pressing your will into my mind or coming here of my own doing, I chose the latter." He stalked back to the bed and sat down. "So here I am, Parthenope," he said. "I've handed myself over to you. All I ask is that you stay out of my psyche. Do that, and I'm yours completely." 


	2. Ozymandias Part 2

A tense silence surrounded them. He did nothing to break it, waiting.  
  
"I can't take you, not like this," she whispered.  
  
"Under the circumstances, this is as willing as I'm going to be," he told her coolly. "So what do you say? Care to ravish my virtue again or not?"  
  
She studied him for a moment, her large eyes unreadable as always. Then they narrowed slightly and she abruptly smiled, a warm, happy smile. "I suppose you're right. I can't expect more from you than this."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"So I accept."  
  
He gulped.  
  
She slowly walked towards him-no, stalked was a better word. Every step she took was leisurely, casual; but it was belied by the look on her face. Those green eyes were now dark with primal emotion. The Doctor had the sudden panicky feeling of being hunted by a tigress. A hungry tigress. And he was the main course-the only course, of the feast.  
  
He hadn't expected this. He honestly hadn't thought she would call his bluff. And now that she had, he was going to have to come up with a Plan B. Fast.  
  
"Hold on," he said quickly, when she was but a few feet away. "What about everything you just said? Wanting me of my own free will, not being able to go through with this under those circumstances and all that?"  
  
She shrugged. "You're right. This is as willing as you are going to be. I will honor your request: I will not take anything from your mind again." She gave him another smile. "It is a small price to pay for your acquiescence."  
  
She gracefully dropped onto the bed beside him. "I believe you offered to let me finish removing your clothes?" She purred.  
  
Oh, dear, he thought.  
  
Her fingers were at his pants almost before he knew it. "Wait a minute," he said, pulling her hand away and rising. "You know, it's entirely possible that if we wait a bit longer, I might be even more willing. Wouldn't you like that?" He asked hopefully.  
  
"I think the way you are now will be quite sufficient," she said dismissively. She crooked a finger at him. "Come here."  
  
He shook his head and backed away a few feet.  
  
"I SAID COME HERE!"  
  
He winced at the electrifying anger he heard in her voice. Well. He'd known this could happen, even though he'd reasoned against it. Next time he'd not presume to be able to outguess her. As for right now...  
  
He bolted.  
  
He hadn't quite made it out when she called in a firm but quiet voice: "Stop."  
  
He found himself immobile.  
  
He couldn't turn his head towards her, but he could speak. "All right. You've made your point. I'll stop. Now release me."  
  
She moved to his side, her eyes still angry, and still hungry. "Playing hard to get doesn't suit you, Doctor."  
  
"And bullying me doesn't suit you, so I'd say we're even," he snapped.  
  
"You offered yourself to me. I accepted. Then you tried to run away."  
  
"I changed my mind," he said acidly.  
  
"So it seems. I, however, did not."  
  
"And that's all that matters, is it? My willingness be hanged, you'll get what you want?"  
  
He found that he could move again when he was compelled to walk back to the bed and stretch out on it on his back. "I suppose that answers my question."  
  
She straddled him, her face calm again as she looked at him.  
  
He sighed in resignation. "All right. Get it over with."  
  
She tilted her head, a movement he'd come to recognize as meaning she was confused.  
  
"If you're going to do this, do it. But you'll have to manipulate me with your mind, because right now I am about as aroused as a caterpillar staring at a spider." He held up a finger before she could ask the question. "Which means, not at all."  
  
She smirked.   
  
"It's not funny," he muttered.  
  
"You were correct, Doctor, that I could alter your mind," she said. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"  
  
Before he had a chance to say a word, he felt something explode in his brain.  
  
Lust. So swift and strong it made what his future self had done pale in comparison. At that moment his body wouldn't have given a fig if she was an axe murderess, he would have still wanted her. He moaned, a low mixture of desire and despair. Then as swiftly as it had arrived, the feeling was gone.  
  
"Very impressive," he gasped after he'd caught his breath. "Although I think you could've used a lesser charge."  
  
"What makes you think that I didn't?"  
  
That made him pause for a moment. "So what now?" He asked finally. "Are you just going to rip my clothes off and force feed my emotions to get what you want?"  
  
"What a difference in you," she remarked, sliding her hands down his chest as she spoke. He resisted the impulse to stop her, not wanting to rekindle her ire. Instead he lay quietly and allowed her hands to roam his body. He could handle this, and it might buy him some desperately needed time to work out a way to get her to stop.  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked.  
  
"When you first came here tonight you were very prepared. Almost insistent. Then, when I agree, you seem to suddenly change your mind." Her hands came to rest on his shoulders. "Now why is that?"  
  
He shrugged. "I'm a very fickle fellow," he quipped. "Given to a change of hearts at any moment."  
  
"Except I do not think you ever changed your hearts, as you put it."  
  
He became very still. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I do not think you believed I would take you up on it, Doctor. I think you were trying to see what I would do, if I would press you or not." She leaned down, her eyes lit slightly. "I know that is what you were trying to do. And it isn't because I read your thoughts. It's because I'm not stupid."  
  
He drew a deep breath. "No, you're not. And you're right, I was calling your bluff."  
  
"A grave risk. Why do it? Were you so certain you were right?"  
  
He nodded. "I was. That was a mistake on my part."  
  
"Yes," she said softly. "Had I sensed your words as truth, I would have just continued to deny what you were offering. But when I realized you were trying to confuse me, I decided to, how did you just say it, 'call your bluff'?"  
  
He managed a smile. "And you did quite a nice job of it."  
  
She nodded, returning his smile, but her face was sad. She bent over him, and for a second he felt the fleeting brush of her lips on his. Before he could even think about whether or not to protest it was over, and she slid off the bed.  
  
"You may leave me alone now," she told him.  
  
He sat up, rubbing his forehead in confusion. "You don't want to--"  
  
"No. I don't."  
  
"I thought..."  
  
"Then perhaps you shouldn't," she said. "Take your clothes and go."  
  
This was an entirely new play in the game. And he didn't have a program anymore. "Parthenope..."  
  
"Go, Doctor. You have done enough."  
  
He bit back the flippant comment that tried to spill out in response, got up and picked up his clothes. "Can't we at least--"  
  
When he raised his head she was gone.  
  
"-Talk about this?" He finished his question.  
  
His only reply was silence.  
  
"I suppose not," he said. He shook his head. "How long are you going to do this?"  
  
"I can wait an eternity," her voice whispered on the wind.  
  
"That's an awfully long time!"  
  
"You are worth the wait."  
  
Her voice was sincere. He was startled to feel a response to her words. His reply caught in his throat, and by the time he trusted his voice again, she had sent him back out of her safehaven. 


	3. Ozymandias Part 3

Three more days.  
  
"This is getting ridiculous, Parthenope!" He shouted on the afternoon of that third day.   
  
As usual, he received no answer. He sighed and stomped around a bit for emphasis of his mood, then gave it up and flopped down.  
  
She had changed things again, added to the extent of his world. He now had a long wicker chaise lounge that rested near a pool of pale blue water, with a large umbrella to shade him from the suns if he so chose. He had food and drink in abundance: he had only to voice his desire for a certain item and it appeared. This had happened after he'd unthinkingly muttered out loud about kippers and marmalade and toast points. He had music, he had books, he had his yo-yo and his ever-ceaseless attempts to master a double loop. The only thing he didn't have was the thing he wanted the most: his freedom. The freedom to assist her, and the freedom to leave.  
  
He honestly appreciated her efforts. In a perverse way, it was as if he was on holiday. Lots of sand, water, good food and drink, plenty of relaxation under warm suns by day and deep restful sleep by night. But a cage was still a cage, no matter how large or gilded it was. He wanted out of his cage. And he wanted to help her, to get her somewhere so she'd not be alone anymore, help to treat the disordered state of her mind.   
  
Unfortunately, it was hard to do any of those things, or even attempt them, when she wouldn't talk to him. He'd tried everything he could think of, and when none of those ideas had worked he'd tried a few more. But shouting at her, coaxing her, and ignoring her had all failed in equal measure. Perhaps, he mused, it was time for a new approach.  
  
"Book, please, from the TARDIS reading room!" He called. "Shelf eleven, row four, third from the left!"  
  
He waited. There was a soft thump as the book fell seemingly from nowhere into his lap.  
  
"Thank you!" he called brightly. He grinned as he lifted the black leather-bound volume up to his face. There was no writing or illustrations on the outside. He'd chosen it deliberately, knowing she'd be curious. Assuming, of course, that she hadn't opened it and tried to read it. Even so, the book was written in ancient low Gallifreyan, and it would, no pun intended, be Greek to her.   
  
His grin widened as he opened the slim volume to a random page. If this didn't get her attention, nothing would.  
  
He cleared his throat, adopted an appropriate voice for the subject matter, and began.  
  
"And so it was that Lady Huxley found herself pressed into the arms of Lord Battlon, his strong embrace holding her close as he bent his head to kiss her. She gasped as liquid fire burned through her veins, and her hearts beat faster as he skillfully possessed her lips with his."  
  
He paused and glanced up. He didn't see anything, but had there been the slightest shifting in the timing of the breeze? He thought there was. Encouraged, he continued.  
  
"There was an inferno surrounding her, rolling in a bright frenzy of longing as it carried her away towards heights previously undiscovered. Here, at last, she would know the true meaning of completion, of passion. Her body felt this heat, was drenched in it, achingly drenched, supple breasts heaving as her breaths came faster and faster, building into a concerto of all consuming need. When she thought she could endure no more, he-"  
  
He stopped again. "What ARE you reading?" She asked, appearing beside him. He looked at her dress. Pink today, soft pink. A good sign, or so he hoped.  
  
"Oh, this? It's just an old Time Lord romance novel. Romana loved these things, insisted on bringing some on board with her while she was with me. She must've forgotten about this one, though. Perhaps it wasn't one of her favorites."  
  
"I didn't think Time Lords understood anything about love, or desire, or romance," Parthenope said archly.  
  
"And what, pray tell, are you basing that assumption on? Surely not MY behavior: keeping me captive isn't the best way for me to set a good example, you know."  
  
"I doubt you'd EVER set a good example."  
  
"Oh, please. And speaking of setting an example, it's very rude to hold me prisoner and not even talk to me, you know." He wagged a finger at her.  
  
"I would not have thought you would want to. And I did not know if I was ready."  
  
"Yes, well, perhaps you shouldn't think so much, hmm?"   
  
"And why did you ask for this particular book, out of the thousands in your reading room?"  
  
He shrugged. "Seemed like a good way to get your attention."  
  
"By reading to me about sex?" Her smile was amused, but her eyes were not. "Now who is making an unfounded assumption?"  
  
"I don't believe that's the case at all," he shot back, "Judging by the way you could hardly wait to get my clothes off, oh, about seventeen days ago!"  
  
To his surprise, she flushed. "I was... unstable," she murmured.  
  
"And now you're not?"  
  
She ignored the jab. "I had missed you terribly. I was overwhelmed by my passions. And you were quite willing as I recall."  
  
"Yes, but that's because-never mind," he said impatiently. "My point is, Parthenope, that this simply can't continue."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because!" he shouted.  
  
"That isn't an answer, Doctor."  
  
He sighed. "Parthenope... what will it take? What can I do to get you to let me help you?"  
  
"You don't want to help me," she accused.  
  
He nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes I do!"  
  
"No. You only want to be able to leave again. If you could, you'd never give me another thought. I'd sit here for another fifty years, a hundred, a thousand, until someone else came."  
  
"You're wrong! I want to take you away from here and help you," he snapped. "Why can't you believe that?"  
  
"Because I do not trust you, Doctor!" she cried. "I had faith in you once and look what happened!"  
  
"It always comes back to that, doesn't it?" he asked wearily. "Even though you know it wasn't intentional, you're always going to hold that over my head."  
  
She turned away. "I do not mean to," she whispered. "But I do not know how to make it stop."  
  
He nodded slowly. "I am asking a lot of you, aren't I?" he asked quietly. "Almost as much as you're asking of me."  
  
Her shoulders slumped. "I see no way to resolve this."  
  
He glanced at her. "Neither do I at the moment. But I'll figure something out soon. In the meantime, would you please stay here and talk with me? I promise to read the rest of the chapter," he added.  
  
She laughed. "That isn't necessary. But yes, I will stay with you. As you said, it is rude to keep you here and not keep you company."  
  
"Well, that's a start," he smiled. "Now, do an abracadabra or two and make another chair. And how about some lunch? I could do with a nice ginger beer and a pastrami sandwich!" 


	4. Ozymandias Part 4

Three Days later.  
  
"Checkmate, Doctor."  
  
"Hmm. I knew it was a mistake to teach you how to play chess!"  
  
Parthenope grinned at him from across the table she'd created. "Why is that? Do you not appreciate a skilled opponent?"  
  
"Skilled? I've lost the last four games! I should take you to Las Vegas. You'd probably be able to compute the odds on blackjack just as easily!"  
  
She smiled, and he returned it. There had been no further discussion on the TARDIS, or his leaving, or her not trusting him. The Doctor treated her like a friend, sharing stories, telling jokes, listening to talk about her race and the great war that had destroyed all of them except her and the one who'd brought her here, the Psion whom he now knew had been her brother. She'd been hesitant at first, and he'd countered that by being supportive and encouraging. Almost unbidden, his mind went back to the night before, the night he had finally asked her for answers...  
  
"It was horrible," she said softly.  
  
He nodded. "I know. I've seen the results of genocide before."  
  
"It was completely unfounded!" she cried. "We didn't even have space flight, no sophisticated technology. We had no desire for it. We were peaceful. All we wanted was to be left alone!"  
  
"If you had no spaceships, how did your brother get the two of you here?" he asked, puzzled.  
  
She sighed. "He teleported us."  
  
"What?" the Doctor exclaimed.   
  
"I didn't say we weren't powerful, Doctor. I only said we were peaceful."  
  
He nodded again. His impulse had been to ask her if she truly thought that keeping him there was peaceful, but he quickly caught himself before he even opened his mouth. He was trying to understand, not attack. He had to earn her trust. It was his only hope of getting her to let him in so that he could undo the damage that had been done so long ago.  
  
"Well, that was an impressive feat, to be certain," he said instead, thankful that she had agreed the day he went to her to stay out of his mind. "So what happened then?"  
  
She tilted her head. "The planet was obliterated. The Psions were all destroyed save for me, I learned when you came."  
  
"Yes, I know that. I meant, what happened to you and your brother when you came here?"  
  
"I would rather have you tell me who killed my people," she said.  
  
He shook his head. "I don't know."  
  
She stared at him, anger beginning to show in her eyes.  
  
"No, I swear to you, I don't," he said earnestly. "That isn't recorded anywhere in any history that I've read."  
  
She still looked dubious. He sighed. "Do you want to rifle through my thoughts and see for yourself that I'm telling you the truth?"  
  
She shook her head, slowly, but with finality. "No, Doctor. I believe you."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it."  
  
"I simply do not see how that is possible."  
  
"It was a long, long time ago, Parthenope," he told her softly. "Long even by the standards of my people. It was many years before a ship happened across your planet. By then there was little left to go on. As you suggested, your people were not very technologically inclined. What I don't understand is... why didn't everyone do it? If your entire race could teleport-"  
  
"I didn't say that," she answered. "My entire race, as you put it, could not teleport."  
  
"Surely your brother wasn't the only one," he scoffed, then the look faded as he saw her face. "Incredible. An entire race of supremely mentally evolved beings, and only one with that power."  
  
"You make it sound like there were billions of us, Doctor," she laughed without humor. "Perhaps, then, history does not know that there were only around a thousand of us on the entire planet."  
  
His eyes bugged. "Only a thousand of you?"  
  
"Yes, give or take a few of course."  
  
He shook his head. "No. That I didn't know. Actually, there isn't much about that war that is known, Parthenope. Not that I'm aware of. As I said, there wasn't a great deal to go on when that ship arrived."  
  
She snorted. "It was a bit more than a ship, Doctor. At least, from the images I got from the mind of your other self."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
She stared in shock. "You truly don't know?" Your other self did but you don't? How is that possible?"  
  
"Well he does have an advantage of years on me," the Doctor said dryly. "It's obviously something he picked up, or something one of my other selves did. Now would you please tell me what you're talking about?"  
  
She stared at him stonily. "That "ship" was a TARDIS."  
  
His breath caught. "Not me," he said finally, quietly.  
  
She shook her head. "No. Not you."  
  
"Then who?"  
  
"Who do you think, Doctor?"  
  
"No," he said loudly, desperately. "Not-"  
  
"Yes, Doctor. The Master."  
  
He hissed.  
  
"Believe me, I completely agree with you," she told him, anger evident in every syllable. "I would not be surprised if he'd had a hand in it somehow."  
  
"A dirty, bloody, black hand," the Doctor muttered. Then he looked at her sharply. "It was no coincidence that he found you, then."  
  
"Most likely not. I don't know how he knew I was here, but somehow he learned."  
  
"The Master has ways of learning things," the Doctor whispered.  
  
She nodded. "Well. To answer your question, my brother died after a time. I don't know what happened. And then I was left alone."  
  
"All alone on a planet for years, decades, with no help, no way to leave," he said sorrowfully. "And then I came along, defeated the Master, told you I'd be back, and never returned." He smiled, a small sad smile. "No wonder you won't let me leave."  
  
She looked uncomfortable at this, and he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I am tired," she said. "I think I shall sleep now."  
  
He nodded, accepting her desire to end the conversation for the night. She turned, and he caught her gently by the elbow. "Stay here," he said quietly.  
  
She was puzzled. "But you do not need sleep."  
  
"I didn't say I'd be sleeping. I said I wanted you to stay here."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you're obviously very upset right now and I'd feel better if you were here with me so I could keep an eye on you."  
  
She raised her eyebrows.   
  
"Please," he said earnestly.  
  
She sighed, and for a moment he thought she would refuse and return to her retreat, stop speaking to him again. But she nodded. "All right, Doctor. I will stay and sleep near you."  
  
She recreated her bed and slipped into it. By now he was convinced that she could only do this either with simple things or things that she knew what every part was and where it belonged. Otherwise she'd have made herself a TARDIS long ago. Wouldn't she? He thought. Surely she wouldn't just have stayed here because of... me?  
  
"Good night, Doctor," she said.  
  
"Good night, Parthenope," he replied. "Sleep well."  
  
This morning when she had awaked she'd looked at him with astonishment written on every line of her face.  
  
"What?" he'd asked.  
  
"You didn't try to find the key while I slept," she'd said softly, wonderingly.  
  
"No, I didn't."  
  
"Because you knew I would know?"   
  
"No. Because I didn't want to."  
  
She said no more about it, only kept looking at him. The Doctor was hungry, and told her so; along with about half a dozen things he wanted to eat. Then he'd started teaching her chess. It hadn't taken long, and it hadn't taken long for her to start winning.  
  
Now he was tipping his king over again and grinning. "How about we try something different?"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I'm open to suggestions."  
  
"Well...can you swim?"  
  
The grin returned even wider than before. "I think I can manage." 


	5. Ozymandias Part 5

Not even half an hour later she was laughing at him. "You call that swimming?"  
  
"I'm out of practice," the Doctor replied saucily. He swam a few more strokes-experimentally, it looked to her-and then rested his feet on the bottom. "Give me a little more time and I'll do laps around you!"  
  
"That would be interesting," she answered from the other side of the pond, kicking off. She swam with speed and grace, only flashes of her body visible in the dark blue water as she cut through it with clean powerful strokes. When she reached his side she smiled. "Perhaps you need something to help you float."  
  
"I most certainly do not!" he retorted. As if to prove it, he held his breath and dove under the surface, emerging a few feet away on the other side of her, a triumphant expression on his face. His wild tangle of curls was plastered to his head and drops of water ran down his chest to gather at the waistband of his blue swim trunks. Parthenope was dressed in a soft yellow one-piece swimsuit. It hadn't escaped his notice that the colors she wore were a direct expression of her mood. Yellow was a color he'd not seen her wear until now.   
  
She clapped softly. "Wonderful!"  
  
"Well, after you've done the English Channel, everything else pales in comparison," he sighed nostalgically. Then he seemed to perk up. "Do you know what I would like, though, is my beach ball from the TARDIS!"  
  
"Beach ball?"  
  
"Yes, a large plastic ball filled with air, with brightly colored stripes," he explained. "It should be in the room with the Olympic sized swimming pool."  
  
"I can make you one," she pointed out.  
  
"But it wouldn't be my beach ball if you did that, now would it?" he asked plaintively.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I shall return soon." She rose from the water and languidly walked away.   
  
The Doctor watched her go, then kicked himself onto his back in a dead man's float. The suns were warm and the air was cool and crisp. He closed his eyes and drifted around the pond, letting his thoughts wander in the gray ambivalence that was his relationship with Parthenope.  
  
He lowered his legs and suddenly his toes came into contact with something cool and satiny under the surface. Some type of planet, he surmised. Curious now, he took a breath and went under to have a look, following leaves down a few more feet to reach the rest of it.  
  
The plant vaguely resembled seaweed on a stick with long dark leaves. It was like nothing he'd ever seen and he decided that it must be a recreation of something native to her lost home world. He reached out and rested his fingertips on a leaf. It was smooth and firm. Satisfied for the moment, he removed his hand and started to go up.  
  
Instantly two leaves lashed out, wrapping themselves around his arms. He struggled, pulling back, but he was held fast. Two more leaves shot forth, each one grabbing a leg, and the Doctor's concern rapidly evolved into panic. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't pull free. He knew his respiratory bypass system would kick in if needed, but that wasn't an indefinite stave off. And what would happen when Parthenope returned? What if, instead of coming straight back, she decided to look around the TARDIS a bit? Or what if there was a mouth attached somewhere to this plant that he couldn't see?  
  
Time, he reflected grimly, was not on his side at the moment. And with his body bound and helpless, there was only one thing he could think of to do. His telepathic skills were not very powerful, but he was certain that fear and panic would enhance them. With one last useless pull to free himself, the Doctor stopped thrashing and instead focused his mind. It was then that he felt himself being pulled closer to the plant: saw the stalk split in two to form something that looked alarmingly like a maw...  
  
'Parthenope!' His mind cried out desperately. 'PARTHENOPE!'  
  
"Doctor! Doctor, can you hear me?"  
  
The Doctor blinked, coughed up a bit of water and gasped for breath.  
  
"Doctor!"  
  
"I'm all right," he managed to wheeze. "Did you get the license plate number of that plant?" He coughed again and squinted his eyes halfway open.  
  
She was staring down at him with an expression of deep concern. "You're out of the water now. You're safe."  
  
"Well I'm definitely out of the water, yes," he agreed, opening his eyes completely. "As for the safe part, the jury's still out."  
  
He was stretched out a few feet away from the pond, Parthenope kneeling beside him. There were dark red marks on his arms and legs. His chest felt slightly bruised and his lips were warm. He touched them reflexively, then realized she must have given him respiration. He dimly remembered the pressure and pain increasing, remembered the darkness closing in around him...  
  
"You seem to be all right now," she said with a sigh of relief.  
  
He nodded, sending drops of water flying in all directions. "Yes. Parthenope, what kind of plant do you have in that pond?"  
  
"A t'ilk plant. It was native to Psia. But I do not understand why it attacked you for no reason."  
  
"Well it's entirely possible that it didn't appreciate me touching it," he said breezily.  
  
She sighed and nodded. "I did not think to warn you of that. I am so accustomed to it only being me here... Doctor, I am so sorry. I could have caused you serious harm."  
  
"Well, no harm done, serious or otherwise," he assured her. "But tell me... is there anything else lurking about that I should be careful of? A lion disguised as a flower, perhaps?" he smiled so she would know he was not being cruel.  
  
She shook her head. "The plant helps keep the water clear and pure: that is why I put one in. I have created nothing else that would be dangerous."  
  
"That's very good to know," he said. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to call it a day for swimming. Perhaps we can indulge in a more sedentary pursuit, say, reading?"  
  
"If you like," she answered. She waved a hand and both of them became dry and attired in clothes: him in his normal outfit, her in a dark red dress.  
  
"Thank you," he told her. "Now, shall we? I'll introduce you to the works of Dickens. That will definitely take up the remains of the day!" 


	6. Ozymandias, Conclusion

Well, this is it! Thanks again to everyone who has R&R'd this story!  
  
She was unusually quiet the rest of the day, making marked few comments about what he read to her. Towards evening she made a grand feast appear, complete with embroidered tablecloth, crystal goblets, and a silver candelabra. She disappeared for a moment and returned wearing a long velvety dress, very different from her usual garb, dark gray with silver trim. Her hair was swept up and secured with a silver headband scattered with purple gems. She looked resplendent, regal, and the Doctor was very taken aback by the change.  
  
"That's a rather fetching ensemble you're wearing," he commented.  
  
"It was the outfit I wore when preparing to make difficult decisions concerning the people," she answered softly.  
  
"The people..." realization hit him sharply. "Parthenope... you were the Queen of Psia?"  
  
"Yes, Doctor. And my brother was the King. And when the invaders came, he brought us here, instead of staying to help our people fight."  
  
The Doctor was at a loss. "That must have been a difficult thing for him to do," he said at length.  
  
"Perhaps," she allowed. "Perhaps not. My brother, though I love him dearly, was always a bit of a coward. I cannot say what his true intentions were: I never asked him." She paused to look at the Doctor. "I never truly wanted an answer, you see."  
  
He nodded. "So... why are you wearing that dress now?" he asked, a bit apprehensive.  
  
"Let us eat," she answered with a smile. "And then I shall tell you."  
  
The meal was delicious, and their conversation entertaining and interesting. The Doctor found her knowledgeable on a wide variety of subjects, from horticulture to temporal physics. They agreed on many things, argued over a few points, and overall he quite enjoyed it. When the last bit of dessert had been eaten and the wine glasses refilled for the last time, he sat back and looked at her.  
  
She didn't try to stall. "I have decided it is time for you to go," she told him.  
  
He was certain he couldn't have heard her correctly. "Sorry, what?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning you are free to leave."  
  
"Why?" he asked simply. "Why now, why have you changed your mind?"  
  
She smiled. "You have been wonderful company, Doctor. I have enjoyed every minute of our time together. But I know that you will never stay here willingly, happily. I can no longer keep you."  
  
He blinked, oddly feeling as though he'd been slapped. He shook his head. "All right... I don't really know what more to say except thank you."  
  
She smiled again.  
  
"You are, of course, coming with me, you know," he said, his tone light but his eyes serious.  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh, yes, you certainly are."  
  
Now it was her turn to shake her head. "I cannot."  
  
"Rubbish!" he snapped. "I won't leave without you."  
  
She laughed. "What? Are you mad?"  
  
"I've been called that, and worse," he replied, unruffled. "But you must know that I can't leave you here alone: why, anything could happen to you!"  
  
"And do you care what happens to me?"  
  
"Don't be an idiot!" he said angrily. "Of course I care! Why do you think I haven't made any effort to find the TARDIS key, or tried to convince you to let me go? I wanted you to know me, trust me, so that you would let me take you away from here eventually!"  
  
"I do know you, somewhat," she answered slowly, reflectively. "And I do trust you now. But I can't let you take me from here."  
  
"Why not? I'm not going to try to hand you over to the interstellar police! I want to help you, Parthenope. I'm partly to blame for what's happened to you in the past fifty years."  
  
"That wasn't your fault," she whispered. "The Master..."  
  
"Yes, well, the Master," he snapped. "It would be all well and good, and easy, to put all the blame on him, wouldn't it? But I can't. I'm a Time Lord, and I shouldn't forget things no matter how many times I'm cracked on the head. I should have remembered! I shouldn't have left you here alone for so long!"  
  
"It is the past now, Doctor," she told him gently. "Accept it and let it go, as I have done, as you have taught me to do."  
  
"I bloody well won't," he said firmly. "You are coming with me or I won't leave. We can have another round of the obstinate contest, and this time I guarantee you I'll win."  
  
She sighed, casting him a sad, weary glance.  
  
"You can't force me to leave," he said stubbornly. "You promised me you'd stay out of my mind, so you can't make me go."  
  
"That is true, I cannot. But I am asking you to go."  
  
"Why? Tell me why you won't come with me!" he exclaimed, grasping a handful of curls and tugging on them as though the action would make all things clear to him.  
  
"I have to undo what I've done over all these years. I must put this galaxy back to rights."  
  
"Then I'll stay with you until that's done."  
  
"There is no point-"  
  
"There is every point!" he shouted. He calmed a bit, and when he spoke again his voice was softer, but no less intense. "I left you once, fifty of your years ago, and told you I'd return," he said. His eyes were haunted. "And I never did. I broke my word to you, whether it was my fault or not. A Time Lord's word is sacred, Parthenope. No matter who is to blame, I won't risk that again. I, too, must put what I have done back to rights."  
  
She sighed. "Days ago, you wanted nothing more than to be gone."  
  
"But not without you."  
  
"And now you are offering to stay with me willingly. Why?"  
  
"Because," he said slowly, "I understand now the importance of trusting someone you once thought you couldn't, of having faith in someone despite all odds. And that is what you have taught me."  
  
"It would seem that we have learned from each other, then," she said.  
  
"Yes," he said, rising from his chair and coming to stand by her side. "Yes, we have."  
  
She stood as well, gazing at him with those hypnotic green eyes. "So... now what?" she asked.  
  
"Well, now you start getting things lively again on all those planets," he answered.  
  
She shook her head. "I meant... with us."  
  
"Ah." He took a step back and reached up a hand to gently touch her cheek. "I'm not good at this sort of thing, you know," he said quietly. "Not used to it."  
  
She nodded. "It may take months to complete this work," she said, capturing his hand in one of hers and pressing a kiss to his palm.   
  
He felt a slight shiver. "Yes, it very well could," he answered, his voice not entirely steady.  
  
"Doctor..."  
  
"Yes, Parthenope?"  
  
"This... sort of thing," she said, planting more tiny moist kisses along his hand. "Is it... something you could get used to?"  
  
"Well, I'm not really sure," he said with a broad grin, pulling her close to him, his lips inches away from hers. "But do you know... I think I could get used to trying to find out." 


End file.
